Prudence even demands that we should never allow ordure to linger on the surface of the ground. It may be harmless, it may be dangerous: when in doubt, the best thing is to put it out of sight. That is how ancient wisdom seems to have understood the thing, long before the microbe explained to us the great need for vigilance. The nations of the East, more exposed to epidemics than ourselves, had formal laws in these matters. Moses, apparently echoing Egyptian knowledge in this connection, [[116]]prescribed the line of conduct for his people wandering in the Arabian desert:
“Thou shalt have a place without the camp,” he says, “to which thou mayst go for the necessities of nature, carrying a paddle at thy girdle. And, when thou sittest down, thou shalt dig round about and, with the earth that is dug up, thou shalt cover that which thou art eased of.” ([Deut., XXIII., xii–xiv.])
This is a precept of grave import in its simplicity. And we may well believe that, if Islamism, at the time of its great pilgrimages to the Kaaba, were to take the same precaution and a few more of a similar character, Mecca would cease to be an annual seat of cholera and Europe would not need to mount guard on the shores of the Red Sea to protect herself against the scourge.
Heedless of hygiene as the Arab, who was one of his ancestors, the Provençal peasant does not suspect the danger. Fortunately, the Dung-beetle, that faithful observer of the Mosaic edict, works. It is his to remove from sight, it is his to bury the germ-crammed matter.
Supplied with implements for digging far superior to the paddle which the Israelite was to carry at his girdle when urgent business called him from the camp, he hastens and, as soon as man is gone, digs a pit wherein the infection is swallowed up and rendered harmless.
The services rendered by these diggers are of the highest importance to the health of the fields; yet we, who are mainly interested in this constant work of purification, hardly vouchsafe those sturdy fellows a contemptuous glance. Popular language overwhelms them with obnoxious epithets. This appears to be the [[117]]rule: do good and you shall be misjudged, you shall be traduced, stoned, trodden underfoot, as witness the toad, the bat, the hedgehog, the owl and other auxiliaries who, to serve us, ask nothing but a little tolerance.
Now, of our defenders against the dangers of filth spread shamelessly in the rays of the sun, the most remarkable, in our climes, are the Geotrupes: not that they are more zealous than the others, but because their size makes them capable of bigger work. Moreover, when it becomes simply a question of their nourishment, they resort by preference to the materials which we have most to fear.
My neighbourhood is worked by four Geotrupes. Two of them, Geotrupes Mutator (Marsh) and Geotrupes Sylvaticus (Panz.), are rarities on which we had best not count for connected studies; the two others, on the contrary, Geotrupes Stercorarius (Lin.) and Geotrupes Hypocrita (Schneid.), are exceedingly frequent. Black as ink above, both of them are magnificently garbed below. One is quite surprised to find such a jewel-case among the professional scavengers. Geotrupes Stercorarius is of a splendid amethyst violet on his lower surface, while Geotrupes Hypocrita is lavish with the ruddy gleams of copper pyrites. These are the two inmates of my voleries.
Let us ask them first of what feats they are capable as buriers. There are a dozen, of the two species taken together. The cage is previously swept clean of what remains of the former provisions, hitherto supplied without stint. This time, I propose to arrive at what a Geotrupe can put away at a sitting. At sunset, I serve to my twelve captives the whole of a heap which a mule has just dropped in front of my door. There is plenty of it, enough to fill a basket. [[118]]
On the morning of the next day, the mass has disappeared underground. There is nothing left outside, or very nearly nothing. I am able to make a fairly close estimate and I find that each of my Geotrupes, presuming each of the twelve to have done an equal share of the work, has stowed away very nearly a cubic decimetre[1] of matter. A Titanic task, if we remember the insignificant size of the animal, which, moreover, has to dig the warehouse to which the booty must be lowered. And all this is done in the space of a night.